Our Toxic Romance
by visionary.witch
Summary: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were together, but then Steve sided with his childhood best friend. Now, the criminal Avengers are under house arrest at the Compound, and the two can't seem to find their way back. {I do not own the characters, just the story!} {Post-CACW}
1. Prologue

{A/N: Welcome to a Stony fic! This fic will portray _very_ toxic relationships, primarily Stony but I will of course be including some ScarletVision as well. It will also be _extremely_ smutty, with smut almost every chapter. Please enjoy!}

Steve Rogers was on his knees. Literally. Also figuratively. His best friend, recently returned from the dead, was once again frozen until T'Challa's sister could figure out a way to fix whatever HYDRA had done to Bucky. He saved the rest of his team from the Raft, but they had been found out quite easily, and were now being arrested by the other Avengers. Tony wouldn't look at him, he was focused on the others on the team. Wanda wept silently beside him, either from the relief of no longer living on the run, away from Vision, or for sadness that her short-lived freedom was now over. Sam kept muttering curses, and Scott asked for orange slices, again. Clint was as silent as Steve.

A warm hand grabbed the back of his neck and he looked up into the open face of Iron Man. "I recommend house arrest, Secretary Ross. That way, we can keep an eye on them." A pause. "Yes, I understand. The Vision is highly capable of running schematics to make sure that none of them leave the compound." Another pause. Wanda froze at the Vision's name, as he was not there with Tony, the Spider-kid, and Natasha. Rhodes was also MIA. "Thank you, Secretary Ross. We will make sure they don't get away again." Tony's eyes met Steve's, hatred almost laced with his next words. "You can hold me personally responsible for Rogers and the other criminals."

That word. Steve hated that word. He wasn't a criminal, all he and the others did was do what they believed in. The same thing that Tony and the others had done. Natasha came up behind Steve and yanked him up by the handcuffs they had placed on him, and dragged both him and Wanda into the quinjet. Tony took hold of Clint and Sam, and the Spider-kid took Scott.

The quinjet was quiet all the way back to the compound, with Natasha piloting. Tony's eyes didn't leave Steve's.

Steve had, after all, chosen his childhood best friend over his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, now, he supposed. But Tony either didn't trust Steve to believe him, or just had his head too buried in guilt and anger to believe him. Steve truly wanted to believe that it was the former.


	2. Chapter 1: Misery Business

_Tony_

The compound is still quiet as fuck. Even with the criminalized members of the team back in their former rooms, there is no interaction between them and us. The Vision is trying to bribe Wanda into liking him again by bringing her all of her meals. Clint and Scott returned to their homes to be on house arrest there, so they could be with their kids. Understandable.

Even with the spiderling living at the compound now, it's awkward when only three people turn up for dinner. Natasha won't even have her dinner in the main room, and the Vision doesn't eat. So, most nights, it's just Peter, Rhodes, and me.

Steve's disdain is what breaks me the most. We were _so_ good before. The thing is, we never actually officially broke up… but it's not like we can consider ourselves to be in a relationship anymore. A relationship involves trust, and I can't trust him to not escape, and he can't trust me to keep him safe. A relationship involves talking, and we haven't spoken in months. A relationship involves love… and I know that I still love him. But I think I might hate him more.

And there's no one that I can talk to about this. Thor and Bruce are off Gods know where, Natasha is stewing in contempt for basically anyone who isn't Wanda, Clint, or Peter, and I can't bother Rhodes with this because he's got his own problems to deal with. T'Challa is dealing with his country. The Vision has to try and patch up his rocky relationship with the witch. But I need help.

One morning, after a long night working in the lab, I can't take it anymore. When I pass a mirror, I notice the deep bags under my eyes; I can't recall the last time that I slept a full night. My hair is more shaggy than usual. Even coffee can't bring me out of this funk. I trudge down the halls, dragging my feet, head hung low.

I don't realize that I've come to pass Steve's room until I unconsciously stop in front of it. I glare at the door. He's likely asleep, since it's only 4am. But… something lulls me and I reach for the handle, turning it quietly and peeking in.

He isn't asleep. Instead, he's sitting in his lounge chair, reading. His eyes have bags under them, and his beard is growing out. The light next to the chair is flicked on, but his eyes aren't focused on the pages of his book. They're looking at me. I clear my throat and enter the room, closing the door behind me.

"What do you want?" He asks, voice monotone, tired. A shiver goes down my spine when he nearly slams his book shut. My eyes trail down his body - he's wearing a tank top and joggers, and the armed ankle bracelet he has on blinks with light every few moments. I scratch the back of my neck and lean against the door.

"We're broken up, now, right?" I muster, focusing my eyes down at my bare feet. "I mean, we haven't spoken in a while."

"Fuck, Tony. That's what this is about?" He roughly runs his fingers through his hair, and I wish it was my hair he was tussling. I want to tell him to watch his language, but now isn't the time.

"Yes, that's what this is about, because…" I sigh. "Because even after everything that we've been through, Steve, I still love you. But I can't trust you to stay."

"Well, you've done a fucking wonderful job at making us all stay, Tony. House arrest?" He sighs and stands up, and walks over to me. Fuck this, he's tall, he's handsome, and he's right in front of me.

"It's better than all of you rotting in a jail, or worse! I did what I thought was best to keep you all here, keep the team together-"

He slams his hands on the wall beside my head. My heart thunders in my ears, and he steps closer to me. "Tony, there is no team anymore. We might all be living under the same roof, but we aren't a team, or a family, or whatever the fuck you think you're accomplishing by us having these alarms on our ankles."

I glance up at him, his blue eyes darker than I remember, glaring down at me. Without thinking, I roughly grab his waist and pull him against me, smashing our lips together. I don't care about being gentle, I don't care about how we used to make love to each other… this is different. This is frustration.

But he doesn't stop me. Instead, he pushes me harder against the wall, and I dig my fingers into his hips, hoping to leave bruises. He bites down on my lower lip, and I let out a harsh gasp, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. His fingers lace harshly in my hair, pulling my head closer to his, and I lean up into his brutal touch. With my hands on his hips, I push him back until his knees buckle and he falls onto the bed with a huff, and I land on top of him. His spare hand nearly rips my shirt off and he kisses my neck, making me moan out, and I know he's leaving dark bruises.

I grind my hips against his and yank his shirt off of him, and pull his joggers and underwear down to his ankles in one swift movement, spreading his legs at the same time.

One of my hands trails down to between his legs and I shove two dry fingers into his asshole, and he cries out in pain at the sudden unyielding movement. I thrust them relentlessly into him, curling them against his prostate, and soon his painful cries turn passionate as he gasps for air. I undo my jeans and pull them down just enough, and I flip him over, pulling his ass up into the air before thrusting into him, bottoming out instantly. He grips the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white, and his body jerks with pain. I don't wait for him to adjust to my length, I just thrust harshly in and out of him, gripping his hips with my nails, drawing blood.

"Tony, fuck, I hate you!" He yells, and he comes hard on the sheets below him, crying out in what sounds like pain and pleasure combined. I thrust more erratically and then pull out, coming hard onto his back, a string of curses leaving my throat.

I wipe off with his discarded tank top, pull my jeans back up, and leave him curled up on the bed, covered in his and my cum, tears streaming down his face.

When I make it back to my rooms, I take a long, hot shower, and then curl up into bed, crying until I fall asleep.

He hates me, but he let me fuck him until he came hard on the sheets.

He's Captain fucking America. He could have forced me away if he really wanted to.

Fuck, what happened to us?


	3. Chapter 2: We Are Broken

_Steve_

"Attention all residents, criminal or otherwise, of the Avengers Compound. All meals are now mandatory. Breakfast will be served at 8am, Lunch at 12:30pm, and Dinner at 6pm."

I can hear Sam's groan through the wall. Tony's AI sure knows how to wake people up at 6:30 in the morning. But he doesn't have to wake me up. I'm always awake. I can't remember the last time I slept, not even a short nap.

I read during the night. Which is what I was doing this morning when Tony came in. Once he left, I felt weaker than I had ever felt. I yelled that I hated him when I climaxed, but I don't think that's entirely true. I can't hate him more than I love him, even after all that we've been through.

I'm laying in bed, though I did get up to shower and replace the bed sheets. My whole body aches with every movement, and there are dark bruises on my hips from where he gripped me. I hurt, both physically and emotionally, but, surprisingly, I'm not that upset about what happened.

It's been so long since we made love, this fucking was an intense release.  
It wasn't making love though. He says he's still in love with me, but what kind of relationship can we have now? I'm a criminal, and he has me and my team locked up in the compound… and now we have to eat meals together.

When 8:00 rolls around, I walk down the too-familiar halls, trying to keep my balance and not show that my whole body, especially my lower half, is in screaming pain. When I make it to the kitchen, I see Tony flipping pancakes, and some of the others are already sitting at the table. Peter, the spiderling, already has three pancakes in front of him and is eating like he hasn't had a decent meal in three weeks. Rhodes is also sitting there, but he's slowly sipping from a mug of coffee. Natasha is leaning against the wall nearby, eyes down. Knowing her, she's sleeping standing up.

I pull out a chair and sit down quietly, and I know Peter's eyes are on me. He seems like a good kid, even though he's from Queens. I pour some orange juice into the glass in front of my seat, but I don't drink it. There's coffee, orange juice, scrambled eggs, hash browns, toast, and a stack of cooling pancakes on the long table. I grab a piece of toast and take a scoop of scrambled eggs.

"More pancakes, kiddo?" Tony's voice sounds sweet when he addresses the boy. I glance over and the three that he was eating when he arrived are quickly replaced by four more. "How many is that now, 300?"

"10, Mr. Stark." Peter responds, his mouth full of syrupy and buttery pancakes. "Thank you, sir."

"No problem, kiddo. You have to leave for school in 10 minutes, and Happy is already waiting outside with the car." Tony informs him, and the kid just shovels even more pancakes into his mouth, taking breaks to drink some orange juice. "Rhodes, do you need anything?"

"Nah, Tony, I'm good with the coffee for now." He responds, his eyes focused on his Stark phone, probably reading the news or something. Whatever happened to physical newspapers?

I hear long steps behind me and glance over the shoulder to see Sam, still wearing his disheveled pajamas. He sits beside me and pours himself a large mug of coffee and drinks in long gulps, and heaps scrambled eggs and pancakes onto his plate. I gnaw at my toast.

Not long after, Wanda comes into the kitchen, not in her pajamas but looking as though she hasn't slept, either. She sits down and makes no move to get food of any kind. Her eyes have deep bags that could rival Tony's.

There is silence at the table, only the sounds of Peter shoveling in more pancakes, and Sam eating slowly. Tony grumbles from behind us, and finally the silence is broken.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell the Vision that he's not excused from meals just because he doesn't have to eat." He orders, and the AI responds with an affirmation that the android will be down in a moment.

Ten minutes must have passed because Peter rises from the table, takes his plate and glass into the kitchen and rinses them off, washes his hands, and says a quick goodbye to Tony. He grabs his backpack and is out the door, and now it's even more quiet than before.

The Vision enters the room, donned in his usual sweater and slacks, and he sits beside Wanda, looking eager. She pays him no mind and grabs a single hash brown from the table, taking small bites. He looks happy, maybe just because she's eating.

Tony finally sits down at the table, dropping off the last of the pancakes, and drinks a long gulp of coffee. Nat finally sits down, too, but only takes one pancake. We all eat whatever amount of food we've grabbed slowly, and there are no conversations. Rhodes is the first to rise from the table and exit, muttering something about a call to update Secretary Ross.

"What's for lunch, Stark?" Natasha asks, rising from the table and clearing any empty plates and cups.

"I was thinking I order from that Japanese place down the street. Tons of ramen, clear onion soup, sushi, tempura, and so on." Tony responds, pausing a moment, "And Pepper wants to make her famous Pepper Steak for dinner. Steak cooked with bell peppers."

"Sounds chill." Sam mutters, rising from the table. "Thanks for the grub, chubs." He waves a hand and saunters back down the hall, either to go back to bed or to workout quietly in his rooms. Natasha invites Wanda to workout in one of the training rooms, and the two exit swiftly, Natasha mumbling something to Wanda. The Vision sits for just a moment, but then follows them.

Leaving me with Tony. I clear the rest of the plates, even the ones with food, and begin to store the leftovers into tupperware dishes. Once I'm done with that, I load them into the fridge and then begin to hand wash the dishes. Tony comes up to the breakfast bar and sits there, eyes focused on my hand movements. I notice the dark bruises on his neck, peeking out from under his Black Sabbath shirt.

"You could've just loaded them into the dishwasher, you know." He points out, leaning his cheek on his hand. "But thanks."

"It's the least I could do. Breakfast was good." I respond, my eyes focused on the scrubbing and rinsing of the plates in my hands.

"Was it? You hardly ate." He noticed. Of course he fucking noticed. But he barely ate as well, only downing his coffee and maybe eating one pancake. Not that I was observing him or anything. I dry off my hands quickly and hang the towel to dry. "What are your plans for today? More reading? More working out?"

"Actually, I was planning on escaping," I deadpan, rolling my eyes. He scoffs in response. "Have you been spying on me, Stark?" Oh fuck. I haven't called him Stark in years. Not since… since we became more than teammates.

~flashback~

"We won." I announce when Stark asks what happened. We actually won. As a team. I don't know how we did it, and there were many losses, but we did it.

And now we are the Avengers.

Weeks pass after the battle. We help with cleanup, Stark more than anyone. He gives us each apartments in Stark Tower. Avengers Tower. We train together. We go on missions together. But something has changed in our interactions.

One morning, as we are working with a cleanup crew near the subway station, Stark suggests we get some lunch, just him and I. I agree, and we head over to a Japanese restaurant. He introduces me to all kinds of new foods, ramen, clear onion soup, sushi. Things that weren't that common when I was a young kid, especially for a lower class family from Brooklyn.

"So, what'd you think, Capsicle?" He asks me as we are walking back to the cleanup site. He could've flown, but he chose to walk with me.

"It was good," I pause, looking up to the sky, where helicopters, cranes, and even Thor and the Hulk are working together to clean up the city. "Thanks, Tony." I stumble. I've only ever called him Stark. He seems to pause over his name, as well.

"No problem, Steve." He smiles over at me, and my face heats up. He stops walking, and looks around. I stop beside him. "You know, I always wondered why my dad was so obsessed with Captain America. I think I know why, now." He states plainly, turning to look at me. His eyes look happy.

"Oh? And why is that?" I ask, feeling my face still warm. He moves his hand, still in the armor, over my face, and it cools me down.

"Because you're the epitome of what a man should be. Kind, gentlemanly… and fucking handsome." He responds. I open my mouth to berate him for his language choice, but instead lips crash into mine and a hard suit presses against my body.

Finally.

~end flashback~

Tony's face is pale. I can't believe I just called him Stark. I want to apologize, I _need_ to apologize to him, but my mouth is gaped open and words won't come out. He storms off, heading to the elevators. I run after him, and he presses the close button quickly, but I stop the door with my hand and force myself in with him. He cowers in the corner, but his face is still showing hurt. Instead of speaking, I corner him and forcefully kiss him, and he pushes back against me, clawing at the back of my shirt.

"Cap…" He whines, bringing me back down to earth. The elevator doors open and I drag my fingers through his belt loop and pull him behind me out of the elevator. We are at the lab, so I push him in and lock the doors behind us, and lift him onto one of the empty lab tables, attacking his lips again with my own. His legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer against his crotch, and his hands trail under my shirt, and press against my abdomen, before lifting the shirt over my head.

I pull his shirt off roughly and pepper kisses down his chest before undoing his jeans and pulling them and his underwear off in one fell swoop. My fingers trail back up towards his mouth and he sucks relentlessly on them, biting, scraping, and looping his tongue around them. Once they are slick enough, I spread his legs a bit more in front of me, and he adjusts his legs so that his ankles are on my shoulders. I tease around his hole a bit before pushing two fingers into him and scissoring quickly, moans eliciting from his mouth.

"Language, Stark," I groan, curling the fingers against his walls except for where his prostate is. He buries his face in my neck, nails digging deeper into my back as I thrust my fingers inside him until he feels stretched out enough for me. I pull my jeans and underwear off, pull my fingers out of him, and slowly push my cock into his ass.

"Fuck…" His head lolls back but he pulls me closer to him, forcing me to bottom out inside him, and I let out a loud moan. "Move. Please. Steve, I need you…" I obey, thrusting at a tauntingly slow pace, remembering the feeling of being inside him. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but I get the feeling that it's not for pain. I move faster, his ankles bouncing on my shoulders, and his nails dig even deeper down my back. "Fuck, fuck, please Steve, please go harder, I need to feel more of you, please please…"

His begging sets me off and I thrust roughly into him, our bodies slapping against each other with sweat and his precum. I grip his ass with one of my hands and move my other hand to his swollen cock and hold my thumb over the slit.

"No coming until I do." I growl into his ear, and he whines in response but nods, capturing my lips with his own, our tongues swirling together as I continue to thrust relentlessly into him.

"Steve, please, I'm _so_ fucking close, please, fuck, please let me come…" He moans, breath shaky. I slide my thumb off of the slit and pump his cock at the same rate as I'm thrusting into him, and my thrusts and his breaths become more ragged, and soon he's coming hard between our chests, and I'm coming hard into his ass. "Fuck, yes, Steve, fuck, I miss this, I miss you, please, don't leave, don't…" His eyes are shut tight as I let myself empty inside him. He's delirious. When I feel soft enough, I gingerly slide out, and lower his legs back down so they are hanging over the side of the table. His hands are pressed into my chest, and he lets out a low whine.

"Where do you keep towels around here?" I ask, looking around. He doesn't respond, so I go to a nearby cabinet and find a few towels. I wipe him off first, but he's still out of it. I wipe myself off and start to get dressed, but he grabs my wrist. "Tony…"

"I fucking miss you, Steve." He finally speaks, and now he's crying. He's tired, he needs sleep. "But we can't… we can't keep doing this, this isn't a relationship, this isn't us…" I continue to pull on my clothes and stand in front of him for a moment, waiting for him to finish his mini-speech. "This isn't going to work, I thought I could handle it, but last night was just an anger-fucking and I'm sorry if I hurt you. But this, what you just fucking did to me… it felt like before. And I can't fucking handle it, Steve."

"I just didn't want to hurt you like you hurt me last night," I respond plainly, buttoning my jeans and looking at him, and sigh. "We won't do this again." I turn around and exit the lab, running a hand through my hair. I head straight for the gym and until they call for lunch, I'm breaking sandbags.

At lunch, I enter the kitchen to see pizzas on the counter. Sam has a few pieces in front of him, Natasha is eating as well. Rhodes is out, Peter is at school. Wanda is once again sitting with no food in front of her, and the Vision sits beside her. No Tony, though.

"Where's Tony?" I ask, picking up a slice of the margherita pizza and putting it on a plate, sitting next to Sam.

"Mr. Stark said he is feeling unwell at the moment," Vision responds. "He says he will join us at dinner time, though."

"He's the one who wants us to try and be normal again with these meals, and yet on the second meal he doesn't even show?" Sam grumbles, mouth full of pizza.

"Let it be, Sam." I warn, meeting his eyes. He lowers his head and nods, continuing to eat his pizza. Natasha watches me carefully, and once I finish eating two slices of pizza, I return to my room.

Tony was right. What we've done today and last night… we can't do again. It's not us, and it's not like things used to be between us. Now, there's too much pain there.

We can't continue on this path.


	4. Chapter 3: Misguided Ghosts

_Tony_

"Mr. Stark, do you need anything?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks over the speakers in the walls. I am laying on the table Steve fucked me on, dressed, the lights in the lab all turned off, an empty bottle of whiskey in my hand.

"More booze." I slur, laying my head against the cold metal of the table. "More whiskey. Fuck…" I close my eyes tightly. But Steve is what I see when I close my eyes. "Steve…"

An hour later the lab doors open and I swing my head up, losing balance slightly. The new bottle of whiskey is half empty, and I frown at it as Steve walks in. "What the fuck are you doing here, Rogers?" I spit, gripping the bottle tightly in my hand. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., why did you let him in?"

"When I asked if you needed anything, you said more whiskey and Steve." She responds plainly. Steve shrugs his shoulders, and approaches me, taking the bottle from my hand. I make grabby hands towards it but he puts a hand on my chest.

"No. You've had enough, Tony." He says forcefully, and I pout as he puts it into a cabinet. I press my cheek against the cool of the metal table, and close my eyes.

"Leave." I mutter, wrapping my arms around the table. "I'm just going to sleep. Leave." I will myself to fall into a deep sleep, but I feel strong arms wrap around me, and when I open my eyes Steve is slinging me over his shoulder. I try to wriggle out of his grasp, arms flailing.

"You need to sleep in an actual bed, Tony." He states plainly, getting into the elevator and standing still as it takes us up one floor to my rooms. When we get there, he lays me on my back and removes my shoes and socks, then lays me on my side. I notice that he puts a glass of water next to the bed and a trash can, and he then lays a damp and cold washcloth over my eyes.

"Why are you taking care of me?" Like he used to, I think. Like he always did when I couldn't handle my PTSD and needed to drink. He would take care of me. Make me shower. Make me eat something healthy. Sit by my side and rub my back as I vomited. I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting to think about it.

I hear the chair nearby creak as I'm sure he's settling into it. "You're in a bad place right now, and shouldn't be left alone. I know how to take care of you." I don't respond this time, though I want to know why he gives enough of a shit to take care of me. "Tony, as much as we've been through, I still can't stand to see you like this. Broken. Misguided. Tony, I'm… sorry. For all of it. But I had to do it."

"I know you did." I mutter, "but so did I. I had to… because I was trying to keep us together. You were just trying to save him."

"He's the last reminder of my life before, Tony. He's my last link to my life before I was in that ice." He explains, and I've heard this excuse before. And it's maddening.

"But you should've been happy enough with your life after the ice, too. Your life with _me_ , Steve. Why didn't you just tell me about what happened? That he was alive? You told Sam and Wanda and Natasha… why couldn't you tell me? Or was it because you knew what he _did_?" My voice raises and starts to shake as I continue my side of the argument. He'll just repeat his argument and we'll go around in circles.

"Because I loved him, once." He admits. I feel my heart stop. "Before. Growing up. He was… my person. My _you_ before I had you. I loved him, and he loved me. But… when he came out of that funk that HYDRA put him under…" He pauses, his voice tense. "He isn't the same. He doesn't love me like that anymore. And I don't love him like that anymore, either. But he's still my best friend. So I had to defend him."

"Why didn't you tell me?" The words barely come out. "Why didn't you tell me?" I raise my voice, tears streaming down my face as I sit up on the bed. He covers his face in his hands. "Steve, I was going to fucking propose to you! I had a ring! And then everything happened in Germany and-" I can't speak anymore, the vomit is coming, and I lean over the trash can.

He waits until I'm done and gurgling water to continue his explanation. "Because I didn't want you to think that I would leave you. I wanted you to continue to trust me. I should have told you before… when we were learning about each other, in every way, I should have mentioned him…" He runs a hand through his hair. It's getting longer. "I knew about the ring. I had one, too."

"Well, I threw mine away." I lie, but he shakes his head. "We aren't there anymore. We aren't together anymore, Steve."

"I know. Because you can't trust me." He retorts. I roll my eyes.

"No, I fucking can't. You keep things from me. Clearly."

"You didn't tell me about the new nanosuits. About that Spider-kid. About the surgery. About Pepper. You cheated on me, Tony. And I stayed loyal to you, even when I was hiding out with Bucky I never once thought about doing what you did." He sighs. "We're both responsible for our relationship collapsing, and for the team's collapse too."

"Yeah, but it's mostly you," I taunt, sticking my tongue out at him. But then the nausea runs up my throat again and I'm heaving into the trash can. A few minutes pass and I gurgle more water, spitting it into the can before laying down. Steve brings me a refreshed washcloth and switches out the trash can. I fade in and out of sleep, waking up to dry heave every few hours. Every time I wake up, he's still sitting in that chair, but he has gone to change and grab a book.

When I finally wake up feeling better, there is a tray of soup and crackers sitting on the floor by me, a bottle of ginger ale beside the soup. Steve's nodding off in the chair, his book against his chest. I glance at the time, and it says 3am.

It hasn't even been 24 hours since I ravaged Steve's body, and yet here he sits, watching me, taking care of me. I pick up the ginger ale and take a long drink, it burning down my esophagus. I cough quietly and he jerks awake, the book falling to the floor. His eyes focus on me, and I look down nervously.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, leaning to pick up his book. "Do you want me to heat the soup back up for you? Or you should probably take a shower, but if you can't stand then I can draw a bath-"

"Steve. Shut up." I groan, rubbing my temples. "Just let me sleep for a few more hours." I slump back into the bed and close my eyes tightly. He brings me another refreshed washcloth and lays it over my face. I quickly fall back into a deep sleep, but I feel soft lips brush against the top of my head before the tiredness pulls me under.

When I wake up again, Steve is gone, but the soup has steam rising off of it and the water has ice in it. I pull the washcloth off of my face and sit up, bringing the warm soup into my hands and eating spoonfuls, slowly. I glance at the clock. It's 6pm. I've been like this for more than 24 hours.

Steve finally got tired of me. Tired of taking care of an old man with mental health and substance abuse issues… who wouldn't get tired of this? No wonder he couldn't trust me with the details about Barnes, I was too unstable back then (not that I'm stable now).

My mind runs like this while I empty the soup bowl and gnaw on the crackers. I take slow sips of the ginger ale and curl back into bed, hoping to sleep my melancholy off.

Is it possible to feel so sad that you can't do anything? Is this what depression feels like? But I'm still capable of taking care of myself. I just feel an ache with everything that I do… like something is missing from my life, or some dark thing is looming over me.

Depression and PTSD _are_ inherently linked. My anxieties about the universe beyond Earth pushed me to create Ultron. But without Ultron, we wouldn't have the Vision.

What will my depression lead me to do?

Why did Steve even put up with me to begin with?


	5. Chapter 4: Arms Like Towers

_Steve_

[A/N: this chapter is _literally_ based off of a super strange dream I had about the Avengers taking on a dinosaur and Tony crossdressing and etc…]

Sandbags litter the gym floor. I've broken too many tonight. Hopefully, Tony doesn't come to hate me more than he already does. I hope he's still sleeping, or that he ate the soup and crackers.

I couldn't bear to sit in and watch him sleep any longer, hear him dry heave over the trash can, or look at me like I was the enemy. I mean, I _was_ the enemy, but that was in Germany.

No, I couldn't bear to watch him any longer because it hurts me to see him hurt like this. I hurt on the inside, but he shows his pain on the outside. All of his pain seeps through.

I lean against the wall in the training room and let out a long sigh, sweat dripping down my bare back. Things used to be so good. _So_ good.

And now? Because of me, everything has fallen.

"Avengers, assemble in the conference room, now!" Fury's voice echoes through the halls of the tower. Tony glances over at me, noticing the urgency in the director's voice. He quickly untangles his body from mine and pulls on some clothes, and I dress quickly. We run down the hall into the conference room. Bruce and Natasha are sitting at the table, and Clint is pacing. Thor is still in Asgard.

"Okay, Fury, tell us what's going on." Tony prods, sitting in one of the chairs, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"It seems that someone let a dinosaur loose in the forests upstate." He says nonchalantly, as if he were reporting the weather. I think Hawkeye drops his bow and arrows in the background. He's probably right, what can a bow and arrow do against a dinosaur?

"What kind of dinosaur?" Bruce asks, but I can already start to see the tinge of green in his fingers as he taps on the table.

"Tyrannosaurus Rex. It's seven miles away from the closest town, and we'd like to prevent any casualties. But, to be safe, Agents Romanov and Barton will work on evacuating the city. You other three, do what you can to take it down."

"Sorry, sir- how exactly do we take down a dino?" Tony asks, but there's no hint of a joke in his voice. He almost sounds concerned.

"Get a bomb down its throat. Hulk smash it away. I don't know, you guys figure it out. Now get going."

Tony runs off to get into his suit, I run off to change into mine, and Bruce waits at the door. Barton and Romanov take off in the quinjet.

When the three of us meet at the entrance to the tower, Tony effortlessly scoops me into one of his ironclad arms, using his other hand to grab Bruce. He shoots off into the sky, and I hold tight to him, thinking of tactics to use against this dinosaur. When we see the dino in the distance, Tony drops Bruce, but before he hits the ground, the Hulk is careening towards the ancient beast.

Tony ceases flying for a moment and opens up his face mask, looking at me closely. "Cap, just-"

"Be careful. I know. You, too." His lips only meet mine once before he drops me onto the back of the beast.

Apparently, dinosaurs are a lot harder to take down than one would think. Tony's trying to take it down with his missiles and lasers, and Bruce keeps spinning it around with its tail, but to no avail.

I'm on its back, but a sudden movement has me flying towards its open mouth. I hold tight to one of his teeth, and try to throw a bomb down its throat, but it's a dud. An iron hand attaches itself to one of mine and I'm propelled upwards into the arms of Tony.

"Steve, you need to be more care-"

And then the Hulk roars, unlike any roar we've ever heard before. And with a glance down, we see the Hulk shrinking back into an unconscious scientist.

"Shit, Bruce-" Tony starts, but then he holds a hand against his ear. "Romanov, Barton, do you copy? Bruce is down."

"Kind of occupied here, Stark. We have people trying to stop you guys from taking the dino down. We can't help you." Barton's voice echoes in our ears, and Tony clenches his fist.

"Tony, get Bruce somewhere safe. You can fly. I'll try to distract the thing, and then you come up and try and get a bomb in there - preferably not a dud." I order, and he nods, once again dropping me onto its back.

I do my best to distract the dino, but to no avail. When I hear Tony's voice, I look up, and am quite shocked.

He's wearing a fake wig and a long white dress, with the Iron Man hands and feet only. He has very heavy makeup, and he's waving at the dinosaur, trying to get its attention. Somehow, it works, and when it reaches up to bite him, he fires down its throat, and I duck behind a tree to avoid getting splattered with guts. After a few moments, I hear him land nearby, and I burst out laughing.

"Hey, what-"

"You make a very ugly woman, Tones." I laugh, holding myself up against the tree. He frowns and crosses his arms. I glance over at him to see him pouting, but I keep laughing.

"Oh yeah? I bet you'd make an uglier woman." He taunts, poking my side to make me laugh more. I grab his hand and pull him against me, pulling the wig off of his head.

"Probably. But you're still very handsome, you know that?" I whisper into his ear, and he lets out a soft moan. "Oh?"

"Steve… please… I want you to fuck me in this dress." He whines, rubbing his crotch against mine.

"Well, who am I to deny a lady her desires?"

Sliding down the wall is one way to wake up from a strange dream. And what a strange dream it was. It left me feeling unsatisfied. I glance up from where I've fallen onto the floor to see Tony standing amidst all the broken sandbags. I stand up quickly, but he holds up a finger.

"Good dream, Captain? You were saying - well, moaning - my name." He points out, crossing his arms.

"Well, uh, yeah, kinda." I force out, words failing. I try again. "Um, we were fighting a dinosaur. And you dressed in a long white dress to distract it."

"How'd I look?" He asks, a smile creeping onto his face. "I probably made an ugly woman, with my scruff. But with that beard you've been growing, you wouldn't make a pretty woman, either."

"You're probably right…" I pause, thinking on his prior question. "You still… looked handsome, you know? Like you always do."

"Right." He glances down at his feet. "Yeah, I _am_ the sexiest person on the team. Always have been, always will be."

The _team_. I can't remember the last time he referred to this random group of people with weird abilities or mutations to be a team. Probably… when he said he was trying to keep us together because I was tearing the team apart, but then I accused him of tearing us apart when he signed the Accords…

I shake my head at myself. It does no good to think about these things. When I look up, Tony looks to be lost in a similar train of thought. I sigh softly, and when he glances at me, he almost seems remorseful.

"Steve…"

"No, Tony. It was, it _still is_ my doing. I should have told you. It was wrong of me to keep-" He cuts me off by pressing his lips against mine in a different way than he has the past few days, ever since that early morning when it was hateful. This kiss has love in it.

"Shut up, Steve, you know you had to do it. Hell, I _knew_ you had to do it, it just…" He sighs, and runs a hand through my hair instead of his own. "It just _fucking hurt_ when you did."

"I'm-"

"I think we've said enough apologies for your whole ninety-eight year life." He mutters, and his hand trails from my hair down my back. I lean into his touch, leaning my head down so our foreheads press together. I still tend to forget how short he is when he's not in the suit.

"Can we start again?" I whisper against his face, his eyes shut tight in concentration, as if he's trying his best to hold himself together. "I know I can't ever change what I did, or how things happened, but… Tony, I'm so _fucking_ in love with you…"

"Language, Rogers." He laughs at this, but I see tears prickling at his eyes. "I love you too, but… I can't jump into trusting you again, I hope you can understand that."

"I can. I totally understand and I-"

I don't get to finish my sentence. I don't even know - or care about - what I was going to say. His lips crash into mine, needy and passionate, and the past few days melts away behind us and this feels like it used to, but _new_. His lips move against mine, fast but _not fast enough_ , and his arms are reaching around my neck, pulling me against him as close as humanly possible. I don't register anything happening around us, not the broken sandbags, not the way he piles our clothes haphazardly as he strips us both, one article of clothing at a time.

I don't feel anything but his mouth wrapped around my thick erection, his hands gripping my ass as if there's nothing else he could grab.

I don't notice anything except when he takes my fingers in his mouth all on his own and sucks on them, leaving long trails of saliva that connect my digits to his mouth.

And when I lay him down gently on the workout mats, edging his legs apart with my thighs, all I can hear is his begging. And all I can feel is his hole surrounding my fingers as I prep him slowly, teasingly.

And then his begging increases, and he's grabbing my waist, pulling me towards him, and I'm inside of him, and all I can feel is _him_. And he's crying my name, but not in a sexy, can't-get-enough-of-you way, but in the way that echoes throughout the room that he missed me.

So I show him how much I missed him, with each timed thrust, and when I wrap my hand around his length and pump him in time, I feel his hole tighten around me, and then he's coming, and when he tightens more around me, I see white, bottoming out and coming hard.

I lay across his chest, kissing around his scars. His heart beats rapidly within his ribcage, and his breathing causes me to move up and down.

We lay like this for a while, the only sounds are our heartbeats and ragged breathing.

And then he speaks.

"I love you, Steve."

And it's as if the world has righted all of its wrongs.


End file.
